


Mask

by icaruslaughed



Series: Suptober20 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Oh So Domestic Destiel, POV Jack, Post Season 15, Very domestic, light angst but not really, prank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26872153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslaughed/pseuds/icaruslaughed
Summary: Day 6 of the Suptober2020 challenge. It’s set post canon, when Jack has his soul back.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober20 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955047
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Mask

Jack ran down the bunker stairs, nearly tripping on the last one in his excitement. Dean helped him convince Sam and Cas to find some way to celebrate Halloween in the bunker, even if it was just eating candy and watching scary movies, and he wanted to “get the party started” as Dean would say. He made it all the way to the map table before realising the lights weren’t all on and smears of a dark liquid that looked suspiciously like blood dripped down the walls. Shadows moved in the corner of his eye and he swore one of them had horns, but he must have just been seeing things.

“Sam? Dean? Cas?” he whispered into the dark room, tucking the bags of candy and other junk food he got at the store under a chair and cautiously approaching the wall. He almost reached out to touch the smears, just to verify what he already knew, but decided he’d rather not have any blood on his hands, especially if it belonged to someone he cared about. That already happened way too many times for his taste. Too many times, he had to help scrub blood off the walls. Too many times, he woke up in a cold sweat, guilt still coursing through him from memories long-since over. No, he never wanted to experience that again.

Instead, he crept along the wall into the library, hiding behind the first shelf as he peeked around the corner to make sure nothing was coming. When the coast seemed clear, he hurried over to the kitchen door, catching another couple smears of blood—what  _ happened _ ?—along the way. Closing the kitchen door behind him, he leaned against it and took a deep breath, mind racing to supply him with all the worst possible scenarios. Maybe God found them and left a bloody massacre, courtesy of some new creature he made up. Maybe the Empty finally came for Cas and Sam and Dean fought for him even though they had no idea why; even though it would always be a losing battle. Maybe Michael decided he wanted absolutely nothing to do with them and slaughtered them, just as his alternate self planned to do. No matter what, they could...his family could be dead.

Taking another breath, this time in an attempt to calm his nerves, he scanned the room for any sort of weapon but the best thing they had in there were cheap knives; nothing that would work against anything not human. At least he had his Grace. For the most part, anyways. It’d have to do. Just as he came to that conclusion, a shadow moved in the corner closest to the other door. It moved too fast for even his eyes, enhanced by his archangelic heritage, to catch much other than a white face with its mouth seemingly opened in a grotesque scream. Instinctively, he chased after it, ready to blow it to bits with his Grace, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The hallway seemed to laugh at him with its emptiness, smears of blood still trailed across the walls as if someone had been thrown against them and dragged along. The door to the Dean Cave sat ajar, almost like it wanted him to see what horrors awaited him inside. Despite how foolish it may have been, he obliged, pushing the door open with one hand while the other balled itself into a fist at his side, ready to punch the first thing that moved. 

“On three,” he whispered to himself.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

Before he had time to take anything in, three masked figures—was that...Batman?—tackled him onto the hard tile floor. Wincing, he tried to shove them off so he could either run or fight, he couldn’t quite decide which was the smarter option but a familiar voice stopped him. 

“Alright, you two’ve had your fun; let’s get off him before we crush the poor kid,” a figure in a skeleton mask that sounded suspiciously like Sam said.

“Aw come on, Sammy, lighten up,” said the one in the Batman mask that must be Dean. The third one, wearing a mask with the screaming face, silently got to his feet, reaching out a hand to help Jack up.

Jack took it, still a little unsure of what exactly just happened. Cas pulled him into a tight hug, pulling off his mask to murmur in Jack's ear, “Happy Halloween, Jack.”

“Cas, Sam, Dean! You had me worried something happened. What...what’s all this?” He laughed nervously, mostly concerned about why Halloween meant making him believe the only people he had left in any universe had been murdered. Dean had made it sound so fun.

“Well, we figured-“

“This was  _ your _ idea, Dean,” Sam interrupted.

“Yeah, alright,  _ I _ figured we should do something fun and spooky for you this year since you’ve never had a real Halloween so we planned to set this all up while you were away getting candy,” Dean finished explaining. “You… did get candy, right?”

“Yes, it’s under the map table. I thought something was after you so I set it down to fight if I needed to.”

All three of them flinched a little at that, probably remembering the life Jack had been raised into even before he had been born. “I’m sorry if we made you think something bad happened. I suppose we got so caught up in the spirit of Halloween we forgot we live it every day.” Another wince from the brothers.

“Yeah, sorry Jack. How about I help you get the candy while Dean and Cas set up a movie,” Sam suggested, already making his way down the hallway at his obnoxiously fast pace, leaving Jack to jog in order to catch up.

Later, after bowl upon bowl of junk food had been placed on the table in the Dean Cave—Sam seemed to think they needed a better name for it and made sure Dean knew that every time he mentioned it—Jack found himself paying more attention to his family than the movie they were watching. Sam lounged on a recliner in the corner, skeleton mask askew atop his head, only there because he looked too tired to remember to take it off. 

Dean and Cas sat next to one another on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in Cas’s lap that Dean kept stealing handfuls of. Cas swatted his hand away whenever he caught him but it was obvious he didn’t really mind. A lot of things were obvious in that moment, the same way they were obvious in other moments like this one. It was obvious there was something going on between them, but it was also obvious they didn’t want to talk about it: to one another or anyone else. 

They were only ever like this when they thought nobody was watching, and Jack knew it wasn’t his business to pry. It wasn’t his business who they were to one another. And if he just so happened to notice them slowly scooting closer until they practically were laying on one another, then that wasn’t his business either.

He couldn’t help it, though: the warm feeling in his chest when he thought about the absolute domesticity of moments like these. No matter how bad things may get, he would always have memories like these, when everyone just... _ was _ . No catch, no mask, just them acting as close to a normal, functional family as two salty hunters, a half angel kid, and a dude who just got back from the dead could ever be. It felt nice.

It felt like home.


End file.
